


The Gift of One’s Heart and Soul

by InsightfulInsomniac



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, Christmas Festivities, F/M, Fluff, M/M, just the military family being cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21938197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsightfulInsomniac/pseuds/InsightfulInsomniac
Summary: After the Lee-Laurens duel, the military family has an early Christmas dinner. Fluff and festivities ensue when the wine is flowing and mistletoe is hung, and George and Martha Washington take it all in stride.This fic is entirely based off of the fact that George was apparently rather affectionate towards Martha in private, and that Alexander and John would legitimately gift each other their favorite passages of literature (I’m not crying, you are).
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, George Washington/Martha Washington
Comments: 9
Kudos: 114





	The Gift of One’s Heart and Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays and enjoy the season of whatever you celebrate! Here’s some Christmas-themed fluff to make your hearts warm!

The very dichotomy of General George Washington is striking.

Perhaps it has something to do with the holiday season — or this year’s holiday season, specifically. Last year, spending Christmas in Valley Forge was as hellish a nightmare one could imagine. The year prior, crossing the near-frozen Delaware was almost just as horrific.

This year, though not Christmas just yet, George Washington sits at a long table in a warm house, presented with a decent spread of food for him, his beloved Martha, and his military family.

Two of whom, just earlier this day, he strictly reprimanded due to the actions they took to defend his honor. Laurens and Hamilton, now sitting next to each other and talking jovially for the other aides, risked life and limb in a duel with General Charles Lee — Laurens as the opponent, Hamilton as his second.

Thankfully, the boys escaped unscathed, and Lee should recover from the minor wound Laurens inflicted. Washington’s Christmas spirits were almost usurped by a product of the war once again, but he finds his anger dulled into a warm fondness at the men whom would risk so much for so little — at least, what he perceives to be so little.

Washington attempts to appear stern as Hamilton and Laurens regale their fellow aides with an obviously embellished rendition of their meeting with Lee. Hamilton, aided by a few glasses of wine (though he surely would have not needed them to speak with such grandeur and garrulousness), animatedly retells Laurens’ duel of honor.

“Our dear Laurens had written me that he intended to settle the matter silently, or to deal with it in a manner of honor,” Hamilton grins, gesticulating excitedly. “And honorable, my friends, it was. Although I know our dear General Washington refuses to speak ill of him,” he directs a pointed glass at the General, and the wine has definitely had an effect, because even the reckless Hamilton would usually refrain from this type of talk around Washington. “Lee most definitely has been confronted properly. I believe he now understands the ignorance of his statements.”

As the aides laugh together, Martha leans into George slightly. “It is impressive that your men would go to such lengths to defend you. It shows the depth of their respect for your command.”

George hums in agreement, unable to keep a small smile off of his face. “They are good men, yes. I’d even consider them to be the best. I just wish, if they must consider themselves a martyr, that they would be a martyr for the Revolution, not for me.”

“Or, if you had your way, not a martyr at all,” Martha amends lightly, and George sighs.

“Ideally. Though I cannot rebuke them for their zeal; I myself once experienced it.”

Rowdy laughter echoes from the other side of the table, presumably because of Hamilton’s animated storytelling of the day’s events. Sharing a look with Martha, George forces his face into some semblance of sternness before interrupting with all the subdued authority he can muster.

“Hamilton!”

All of the aides’ heads snap towards him, and Hamilton’s nearly out of his seat and at attention just from his tone. “Yes, sir?”

Washington lets the act fall slowly, instead morphing his expression into a smile. “Since you are so inclined to talk tonight, how about a toast?”

He grins, standing from his seat. “Of course, Sir. A toast, to a plentiful meal, to warm friendships, and to the honorable General Washington.”

As he raises his glass, Meade interjects. “And to Laurens!”

Alexander glances down at his friend, a beam stretching across his face. “Yes, and to our Laurens. For his judiciousness in affairs of honor and dignity.”

“To Laurens,” the table echoes and drinks before returning to the meal.

Some time later, the meal devolves into light socialization, both the General and Martha accepting it willingly. The boys are good company, even with the jovial nature that is brought upon by good spirits and alcohol.

“Perhaps we shall move to the drawing room?” Martha suggests as the servants begin to clean up dinner around them, and the family agrees, exiting the dining room quickly as George escorts Martha by offering his arm.

As soon as they walk in the room, all eyes are on them, scheming smirks evident on each face. The sudden attention stops the Washingtons in their tracks, and before George can question their odd antics, he notices the green sprigs hanging above him, affixed to a nail in the beam.

“Mistletoe,” Martha chuckles, catching on in time with her husband. “Well, how could that have gotten there?”

“This is an incredibly juvenile act,” George comments, though without any true annoyance. “And in such a public area!”

“With all due respect, Sir, that is the intention behind hanging mistletoe,” Tilghman offers, earning laughter from the rest of the family.

“I suppose it is,” Washington concedes, turning to his wife. “Shall we oblige them?”

“What is Christmas without a little affection?” She replies, meeting him in a sweet, chaste embrace as the boys look on and whistle at the sight.

When the Washingtons break apart, the aides settle their cheers. “You received your show, continue on,” Martha instructs, good-naturedly waving in their direction.

As the night grows longer, people slowly begin to retire to bed. When McHenry finally stumbles upstairs, half drunk on wine and half drunk on sleeplessness, only Hamilton and Laurens remain seated in chairs across the room from one another.

Alexander breaks the silence as he stands and crosses the room. “I have a gift for you, John.”

“But it’s not yet Christmas,” he protests, and Hamilton just shakes his head, procuring a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his coat.

“It’s only small, I promise. Here,” he hands it to John, who promptly unfolds it and reads the familiar scrawl.

“According to Greek Mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate beings, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.” From Plato’s The Symposium.

“Alexander,” John breathes, glancing up to find him uncharacteristically nervous, chewing his bottom lip. “It’s a beautiful passage. Thank you.”

Hamilton nods in response, his cheeks, already rosy from the wine, flushing even deeper. “Of course. I read it yesterday and thought of you.”

There’s a moment of heavy silence, then John smiles softly at the man in front of him. “I understand, Alexander. I also believe you are mine.”

A slow beam stretches across Alexander’s face as John carefully folds the paper up and tucks it into his pocket, standing and closing the slight distance between them.

“I have yet to think of a gift worthy of giving to you,” Laurens admits, running his finger down the line of Hamilton’s jaw. “I know I am very late in my endeavors, but the war —“

“I understand,” Hamilton finishes. “It is quite alright, John. Having you is gift enough.”

“That is a meager gift to give.”

“I do not think the gift of one’s heart and soul is meager.”

John grins, gradually leading Hamilton a few steps backwards. “Well, then consider yourself a wealthy man, for you have both of mine in their entirety.”

Alexander appears as if he’s about to respond, but then notices his immediate surroundings. “John, you clever man! You’ve distracted me enough to follow you under the mistletoe.”

“I had no such intentions,” he retorts, but his smirk betrays all innocence. “It was simply a matter of fate.”

“Your beauty is of good fortune to you,” Alexander murmurs teasingly as John bends down to tilt him into a deep kiss, the world and the war stilling around them for a peaceful minute in Morristown.

When they break apart, Alexander is breathless and giddy, eager to draw John back into him again and again until they have no more breath to share between them. John, however, simultaneously calms and ignites his simmering flame by gently combing through the curly auburn hair at the nape of his neck.

“Let’s go to bed,” he suggests, and is met with absolutely no resistance. It seems as if Morristown has provided the two men with a gift of its own — headquarters large enough for just two men to share a bedroom.

If just for tonight, all the powers of the war, death, God, or Zeus cannot keep the two apart.

**Author's Note:**

> Alex and John were actually the cutest. That’s a historical fact.


End file.
